


tease me, squeeze me

by goodmanperfectsoldier



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Accidental strip shows, Awkward Bucky, First Time, M/M, Masturbation, Steve’s tits, Tit-fucking, canonverse, the tiniest hint at dom/sub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-27 22:50:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17775713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodmanperfectsoldier/pseuds/goodmanperfectsoldier
Summary: It isn’t his fault that Steve has absolutely no sense of modesty. It isn’t his fault that Steve has no desire to be in his Captain America uniform any longer than strictly necessary. It isn’t his fault that Steve tends to start disrobing as soon as they hit friendly airspace, so that he can pull on a t-shirt and sweatpants before they even make it back to headquarters, much less get home to their apartment.





	tease me, squeeze me

Bucky doesn’t mean to stare.

Really, he doesn’t.

But he is. Staring. He is.

It isn’t _his_ fault that Steve has absolutely no sense of modesty. It isn’t _his_ fault that Steve has no desire to be in his Captain America uniform any longer than strictly necessary. It isn’t _his_ fault that Steve tends to start disrobing as soon as they hit friendly airspace, so that he can pull on a t-shirt and sweatpants before they even make it back to headquarters, much less get home to their apartment.

Bucky doesn’t have a problem with any of that. He can handle seeing Steve change in the middle of the quinjet; he’s seen Steve in pretty much every various state of undress he’s ever been in. That’s not what makes him stare. Not that he doesn’t want to stare—but he can resist something as innocent as a little half-nudity, even from the guy he’s been drooling over since the ‘30s.

No, what Bucky has a problem with—or absolutely no problem with at all, depending on how you look at it—is Steve, for lack of a better word, _groping_ himself.

There’s no other way to describe it. Steve will get the top portion of his uniform undone, shrug out of the outer layer, and then pull off the supportive under layer. Bucky had taken a good look at it once (when Steve was _not_ wearing it, thank you very much) and he knows that the piece Steve wears underneath offers a second layer of protection under the bulletproof fabric that lines the outer part of the suit, as well as a fair deal of compression. As far as Bucky can tell, it was expertly designed to allow Steve the necessary range of motion he needed to fight while also ensuring that, well. That Steve’s tits don’t bounce around too much.

(Bucky is all too familiar with the bouncing. He is simultaneously relieved and disappointed every time Steve opts to take his daily run outside instead of next to Bucky on the reinforced treadmills in the gym.)

So, yes. Steve basically wears a sports bra under his uniform, and that alone isn’t the problem, either. Bucky doesn’t have a single issue with any of these facts, individually.

It’s when all of these elements came together that he ends up frozen in place, one arm out of his own tac jacket, hoping no one will notice that he hasn’t moved or _breathed_ in the last minute.

Because when Steve strips out of his _sports_ _bra_ (just the thought of it made Bucky have to suppress a shiver) the first thing he does is moan quietly, which is quite enough for Bucky, actually. It’s plenty, even if Steve doesn’t follow it up by bringing his hands up to his own tits and squeezing like they were asleep and he need to get the blood flow going.

The only blood flowing is Bucky’s, now, and it is going to a place that he really, _really_ didn’t need it at the moment. He is just beginning to try to will it down when something small and hard hits him on the side of the head. Concentration broken, he whips around in the direction it came from to find Sam and Natasha watching him, twin smirks on their faces. Bucky scowls.

“Shut up,” he mumbles. Neither of them answers out loud, but Sam waggles his eyebrows and Natasha raises just one in that way that she had when she was telling him something he definitely already knew. Bucky sighs. They were both right, and he does already know it.

He turns back for one last look at Steve to find that he’s finished the _groping_ and moved onto divesting himself of his pants, boots having already been kicked to the other side of the cabin. Bucky gets a glimpse of black briefs before Steve pulls on a pair of sweatpants and a soft-looking shirt. It’s then that Steve finally looks up and sees Bucky looking at him.

Whoops. Bucky immediately feels his face heat up. It’s one thing for Sam and Nat to catch him at this, but for Steve to see him staring... 

But Steve just smiles, looking a little concerned. “You good, Buck?” The fight they’d just completed had been an easy one, no major injuries for anyone, but Bucky knows that Steve is a worrier. Somehow, the fact that Steve’s first thought, after catching Bucky watching him get undressed, is to make sure Bucky is okay, just makes everything worse. Bucky hears himself make a noise that might be an affirmative, if one is being generous, before he turns and runs.

There isn’t really anywhere to go in the quinjet, but thankfully there is a bathroom. Bucky is glad that he’s only just gotten his jacket off. He’s more than halfway hard and he might find his resolve tested if he were able to get to his dick more easily.

Bucky is _not_ going to jerk off to thoughts of Steve touching his own chest in the bathroom of an aircraft carrying them _and_ all of their friends. It is gross for a whole list of reasons that Bucky can’t really think of. He is not going to do it.

Really, he isn’t.

And yet, his hand is inching toward his zipper when he is saved from himself by the grace of god. And the grace of Sam Wilson, who knocks on the bathroom door and informs Bucky that they’re about to hit some turbulence, and Bucky might want to come out and strap himself down. Bucky takes another minute thanks to silently recite the make and model of every single firearm in the Avengers’ collective arsenal and thankfully manages to quiet his dick down a bit. But even so, he’s still considering taking the risk and staying in the bathroom, turbulence be damned, until Sam adds that Steve has already fallen dead asleep on one of the cots in the cabin.

That’s the other thing Steve likes to do best after a fight: fall asleep in the first place he gets comfortable. 

It gives Bucky a whole other set of feelings. Those are no easier to navigate than the ones in his pants.

 

***

 

And the thing is, really, that Bucky hadn’t paid much attention to Steve’s post-mission ministrations until Natasha had commented on it just a few months ago.

“What a mood,” she’d said, and Bucky, always on the lookout for a good meme, had followed her gaze to where Steve stood, massaging his chest. He knew immediately that he’d made a fatal mistake. He’d hoped it would be a one-time thing, a fluke.

If only he could be so lucky.

 

***

 

It happens again, a couple weeks later. Not after a mission this time, but a full-uniform training session at Stark’s gym. It’s easier for Bucky to slip away this time after several agonizing seconds of watching Steve’s long fingers knead at his own pecs. He leaves the main area of the locker room for one of the attached single-stall bathrooms and he’s pretty sure he did it without attracting any attention.

And then again, the very next week, and this time it’s in their very own apartment, because apparently Bucky isn’t safe anywhere. Steve comes home from a visit to a nearby children’s hospital and starts stripping right there in the living room. Bucky knows he should book it to his bedroom the second Steve walks in the door with the outer shell of his top already off, but he can’t make his legs move until Steve’s half-naked and Bucky realizes he’s only got precious seconds before his traitorous cock is at full attention in his sweatpants. He launches himself from the couch and dashes into the first door he comes to, the guest bathroom. Steve has barely acknowledged him to begin with, being so focused on undressing, so Bucky’s fairly certain he gets away with it.

He’s a master assassin, a sniper with spy training; if he can’t sneak out of a room unnoticed once in awhile, what is he good for? 

As it turns it, not much.

 

***

 

Bucky’s sitting on the couch with his morning coffee, trying to find an episode of House Hunters he hasn’t made fun of yet, when Steve comes out of his bedroom and sits down next to him. Bucky barely has time to greet him, much less appreciate the way Steve’s white cotton t-shirt is clinging to his damp, fresh-from-the-shower skin, before Steve asks, in a deliberately calm tone, if they can talk. 

Bucky nods and hits mute on the TV, turning halfway toward Steve. Their knees bump together a little bit—Bucky tries not to go back for more.

Steve sighs like he’s working up to something, then says, “Buck, are you—are you okay? Are you sick?”

Bucky stares at him, uncomprehending. Of course he’s not sick. He can’t get sick, what the hell is Steve asking that for? Before he can say as much, Steve continues: “If you are, it’s okay, you don’t have to hide it. We can—we can figure it out, Buck, we’ll find you a doctor, we’ll figure it out.”

Bucky would laugh, if not for the grim, determined look on Steve’s face. That look is so familiar—but not usually directed Bucky’s way. Steve’s completely serious, and it sobers Bucky up immediately.

“Steve, I’m not—no, I’m not sick, I swear. I’m fine. What made you think I was sick?” he says.

“Just, you keep…running away, all the time? On the quinjet a couple weeks ago, last week at the gym, yesterday when I got home from the children’s hospital? I figured you were, I don’t know, throwing up?” And suddenly, the whole picture is clear to Bucky, and this could not be happening to him.

How the hell is he supposed to explain that, no, he hasn’t been throwing up, he’s been jerking off?

(Or, well, trying very hard not to jerk off. But that’s only marginally better.)

Everything gets even worse when Steve takes both of Bucky’s hands in his and looks him right in the eyes.

“It’s okay, Bucky, I promise. We’ll figure out why the serum is failing, we will. You’ll be fine. You don’t have to hide it anymore, okay?” It is, perhaps, the most sincere look Bucky’s ever seen on Steve. And it’s awful. Bucky tugs his hands away and tries to ignore how Steve’s face falls. 

“Steve, I, uh,” he says, avoiding eye contact. “I’m not sick. Really.” He looks back up and Steve’s got his head cocked just a tiny bit to one side, like a dog. 

“Then what’s wrong, Buck? Whatever it is—you can tell me, you know that, right?”

Bucky groans and covers his face with his hands. For someone who spent the better part of the last century figuring out exit strategies for every situation he was in, Bucky’s at a loss. He can’t see any way out of this, except to tell the truth and accept the loss of Steve’s friendship. And probably his respect. 

He takes a deep breath. “I wasn’t throwing up, I was touching myself,” he mumbles into his hand, running all the words together in an effort to get them out as quickly as possible.

There’s a long silence, and then finally, Steve says, “Like…masturbating?” 

Curse his super-hearing.

He sounds so confused, though, as if the thought of Bucky getting himself off is a foreign one. Which is idiotic, because Bucky knows Steve’s heard him doing it before, all the way back before the war.

Bucky takes his hands away from his face and risks a glance back at Steve, and it’s the stupid way his head is tilted to the side that breaks Bucky.

“Yes! Masturbating!” he says, entirely too loudly. “I’ve been jacking off in the goddamn bathroom because I cannot handle you groping yourself every time you take your fucking uniform off!” Steve looks shocked, which is fair. Bucky starts to stand up, fully intending to go straight to his room and start packing. No way is he gonna be welcome here, in Steve’s apartment, after this.

But Steve puts his hand on Bucky’s arm and stops him in his tracks. He pulls him back down, forcing him to sit. Bucky goes, but he’s glaring the whole time.

“I—and you—groping myself?” Steve asks, a wild look in his eyes.

Bucky thinks that it can’t possibly get any worse, at this point, so he might as well go all in.

“Yeah, fuck, you—every time you take your uniform off, you squeeze your chest like it’s—like you’re trying to get the blood flow back. It’s too hot, it turns me on too much, I have to run off and take care of my fucking boner. It’s gross, I know, I’m sorry, fuck.”

Steve’s blushing, which is normally something Bucky finds very pretty on him, actually, but right now he just feels ashamed.

“But you don’t—” Steve starts, but Bucky cuts him off.

“I don’t need you to let me down easy, Steve, I know it was wrong of me, and I’m sorry. I’m just gonna go pack my shit and get out of here, okay?” Steve should be mad at him, Bucky knows it, he has every right to be.

But he doesn’t look mad, actually. Surprised, maybe, wide-eyes and gaping, like he’s trying to say something, only nothing’s coming out. But not angry. So Bucky doesn’t move for another second. 

“Steve,” he says again. “It’s fine. I won’t do it anymore, I swear. I shouldn’t have.”

Steve’s mouth finally snaps closed, lips set in a firm line, and Bucky figures that Steve’s brain has caught up and now he’s gonna get it. But then, to Bucky’s utter surprise, Steve says, “But what if I don’t want you to stop?”

Now Bucky’s the one who can’t form words. “What if you—” Bucky stops, not sure where to go from there. “I need you to be very clear with me, Steve,” he manages after a moment. “You don’t want me to stop getting off on your tits?”

Steve turns, if possible, even more red. But he still doesn’t look mad, or even embarrassed. “I mean,” he says. “I’d maybe prefer it if you actually…got off…on my tits?” And he puts an emphasis on the word “on” that goes straight to Bucky’s dick.

“Well, then,” Bucky says, slowly, throwing all his caution to the wind. “That could…be arranged?”

Steve, for the first time since he sat down on the couch, smiles. Bucky smiles back at him. And then Steve grabs Bucky’s hand again, but this time, he stands up and tugs Bucky up with him.

“What, _now_?” Bucky laughs, as Steve leads him into the hall. Steve looks over his shoulder and grins.

“Why waste any more time?” They stop at the door to Steve’s bedroom and Steve turns back to face Bucky. “Unless you want to wait? I could, you know. We could go on a date first, if you want.”

Bucky shakes his head. “Hell no, Steve. I mean—you will absolutely be taking me on a date, yes. But I’ve been dreaming about getting my hands on your chest for months, I’m not about to wait, now that you’re offering. Get in there and get your shirt off.” He gestures to Steve’s door.

“Yes, sir,” Steve says, joking, but, oops. Bucky’s definitely already at half-mast, and he's not apologizing for it this time. They’ll have to come back to that.

Steve pulls Bucky through the door and shuts it behind them. Turns out for once, Bucky doesn’t have to tell Steve twice to do something: he climbs up on his bed without another word and strips his shirt off. Bucky’s mouth goes dry at the sight of all that damp, pale skin. He averts his eyes out of habit, but Steve chuckles softly and says, “Buck, hey. You’re allowed to look, baby.”

Bucky looks back to find Steve on his knees in the middle of the mattress, shirt off, hands right where Bucky is used to them being: cupping his own pecs. Bucky stares. He wants to get closer but he can’t make his feet move. He’s pretty sure his mouth is open a little bit.

Steve gives him a small, sweet smile. “C’mon, Buck. Don’t you wanna?” And then Steve, the bastard, flexes his fingers. His tits press together, creating a little valley of cleavage in between them that Bucky wants to stick his tongue in. 

That he wants to stick his dick in.

Holy shit. Will Steve let him do that? 

Only one way to find out, Barnes, he tells himself. He takes a second to press down on his erection, and then he pushes his sweatpants down over his hips and steps out of them when they fall to the ground. Bucky notices Steve start to look flushed again; Bucky’s not wearing any underwear and the sight of his cock must be doing it for Steve, he realizes with a pleased grin.

As if to retaliate, Steve matches his grin and squeezes himself again, then lets his fingers trail apart, catching a fingertip on each of his nipples for just a second. Bucky’s cock twitches and he groans. “You can do that on purpose, sweetheart. Not fair.”

“What’s not fair is how you’re still standing all the way over there, Bucky. And who said I haven’t been doing it on purpose the whole time?”

Bucky groans again—well, it’s more like a growl this time—and pounces. He gets Steve on his back and knocks his hands away to replace them with his own. They’re a revelation, Steve’s tits. Just enough to fill his hands, soft skin, firm but pleasingly pliant muscle underneath. And his nipples: pink and pert and already standing at attention.

Bucky squeezes, just a little, just to see. Steve moans like he’s in a goddamn porno and Bucky’s gone. He grinds his hips down and his naked cock rubs against Steve’s clothed one in the most delicious way.

“You’re a goddamn tease, Steve Rogers.”

Steve huffs a short laugh. “Whatcha gonna do about it, Barnes?”

“This,” Bucky says, pushing his hands together to make that lovely cleavage reappear, and simultaneously swinging his hips forward so his cock lands right in it.

“Oh, fuck,” Steve says, drawing out the vowels. His hands come up to rest on Bucky’s ass, and Bucky pushes back into them just a little, then rolls his hips. His cock is dripping already, and it leaves a little puddle of pre-come on Steve’s chest. Steve’s eyes flutter closed and Bucky mentally high-fives himself.

“You like that, huh?” Bucky says. “This what you were thinking about, all those times? Thinking about me getting my hands on ya, rubbing my big dick between your tits, sweetheart?”

“Yes, Bucky, baby—please—” Steve chokes out, all the cockiness of the previous minute gone. He sounds desperate, already, and all it does is egg Bucky on.

“Please what, Stevie? You want me to do this?” He slides his cock back and forth again, short movements so he doesn’t poke Steve in the neck, just enough of a thrust to make them both feel it. Steve’s cleavage is wet with Bucky’s pre-come and the slide is slick and easy. Steve gasps and nods. “I wanna hear you say it, baby, tell me. Tell me you want me to fuck your tits until I come all over them. Say it.” All the while, he doesn’t stop thrusting. He can feel Steve’s fingers flexing against his ass. Steve’s breathing heavy now, but he still doesn’t speak. 

Bucky slows his thrusts and says, “Gonna stop if you can’t say it, Stevie.” Steve’s eyes fly open, searching Bucky’s face. Bucky grins down at him and winks, pulling his cock back at an agonizingly slow pace. Steve’s not the only one who can tease.

“Please!” Steve finds his voice again. “Yes, please, Buck, fuck my tits, please, I wanna—want you to come on me, please, c’mon.” He’s practically whining by the end, and Bucky loves it. He picks up the pace again, squeezes Steve’s tits tighter. He can’t believe he can get them practically all the around his cock—except he can, because despite Steve’s lack of body fat elsewhere, Bucky’s seen these things bounce around when Steve runs. That’s what started this whole thing, after all.

Bucky vaguely registers the fact that Steve’s hips are bucking up and down behind him, but he’s too occupied with what’s happening above Steve’s belt to care just yet. He just keeps sliding his cock back and forth until Steve’s eyes close again. Bucky lets his own eyes close as he tips his head back, focused solely on the feeling of Steve’s soft, wet skin against him.

Warmth begins to spread through his hips and he’s just thinking that it won’t be long when Steve all-out whimpers underneath him, and his hips go still. Bucky looks down to find Steve completely blissed out, riding the high from the orgasm he clearly just had.

“Fuck, sweetheart, I didn’t even touch you,” Bucky groans, rolling his hips even faster, chasing his own climax, nearly catching it.

Steve’s cheeks go pink. “Sorry, Buck—next time—” But Bucky cuts him off. “No, baby, don’t worry—it’s fucking sexy—fuck!” Finally, finally, Bucky finishes. His come hits the underside of Steve’s chin, his neck, his collarbones. Bucky’s never seen a more beautiful sight. He looks down at Steve, his gorgeous Steve, for another long moment before he rolls to the side and collapses next to him. The sheets are definitely going to need to be washed, but that’a a future-Bucky problem.

Present-Bucky ignores the cold wet spot underneath him and roots around blindly until he finds Steve’s hand and threads their fingers together.

 

***

 

“We still haven’t even kissed,” Bucky says, later, when they’re lying next to each other again, on clean sheets this time. Steve laughs. 

“So kiss me, baby,” he says, rolling to face Bucky and put one hand on his cheek. Steve draws him in gently and Bucky follows, like always. It’s soft and slow, nothing like what they just finished—a promise, a real beginning. They kiss like that for a few minutes, quietly. Then Bucky pulls back and narrows his eyes.

“Were you really doing that on purpose the whole time?”

Steve laughs. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

**Author's Note:**

> -Many many thanks to [Izzy](https://mobile.twitter.com/aka_spacedog) for the beta and all of my friends on Twitter for the endless encouragement!!
> 
> -At the same time that Izzy was doing a beta read on this, I was doing the same for the latest chapter of her ongoing fic, [the lions](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9230270/chapters/20933219), which is GREAT, so check that out!!!!!
> 
> -Follow me on Twitter [@softestbuck](https://mobile.twitter.com/softestbuck) for general fandom thoughts and thirst!!


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